


Pet Project

by milky_mangoes



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Accidental Stimulation, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, First Kiss, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff and Humor, Friends With Benefits, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Porn With Plot, Rated E for future chapters, Sexual Inexperience, Sloppy Makeouts, Smut, kageyama tobio is a fucking virgin, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:42:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28494777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milky_mangoes/pseuds/milky_mangoes
Summary: Kageyama needs an English tutor, and Kiyoko graciously suggests a friend of hers to tutor the dim-witted members of the Karasuno Community College volleyball team.You see this as an opportunity to turn the famous setter into your newest pet project.
Relationships: Kageyama Tobio/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	1. Study Buddy

He could feel his eye twitching.

Of course midterms just so happened to be before their first match of the season, it couldn’t torment and taunt him with the threat of not playing his first official college volleyball game if it wasn’t. To make matters worse, he would have to stay late to take a supplementary test and miss the game altogether, should he fail (which, he most certainly would). It was only Kiyoko’s sweet offer that brought both him and Hinata across town to a dingy apartment complex for a free tutor session with some unknown upperclassmen. While having you as tutor would probably still be better than having that snarky asshole Tsukishima tutor, he wished Yachi had spare time to help them out again.

Hinata bounded up the concrete stairs, full of an inextinguishable energy that didn’t seem to fade even outside of the volleyball court, and pounded on the door matching the address Kiyoko had given them.

 _“Sorry, but I don’t have the time in my schedule to tutor anyone right now. I was going to recommend a friend of mine, she’s a native english speaker. She should be able to help you out far better than I could anyway,”_ Kiyoko had said earlier that week, handing them a slip of white notebook paper with a phone number scrawled across it. _“Just give her a call and she’ll be happy to help. I’ve already asked her if she would be interested in tutoring on the side for you boys this semester. Coach Ukai would really like to see you both play next weekend.”_

Kageyama was grateful, a thousand times over of course, but he hated the idea of having to divert attention away from volleyball. Even if it were for his studies. He shouldn’t be surprised; if he wanted to continue playing on his scholarship, he needed to maintain a certain (albeit low) grade point average. College was never on his agenda in the first place, merely a stepping stone from middle and high school volleyball to get to the big leagues. Now, he was paying the price by studying and, god forbid, doing schoolwork until he got that fateful call from the professional leagues.

He adjusts the strap of his backpack as he hears a small “coming!” faintly from the other side of the door. Another moment later, he hears a small ‘click’ of the lock and the door swings open to reveal your dishevelled form. He peers down at your messy hair and wrinkled clothes, as if you had just gotten out of bed that morning, faint dark under-eye circles cushioning your otherwise pleasant features and sheepish smile.

“Good morning! Thank you for agreeing to help tutor us!” Hinata exclaims, giving a bow to the elder student. He nudges Kageyama, who had been staring quite intensely at you for far longer than he’d like to admit, to follow suit. He dips his head and mutters a small ‘thank you’ as well before straightening back up to his full height. You nod and give them your name.

“You two must be Hinata and Kageyama, right? You’re a bit earlier than expected…” you trail off eyes scanning the two men in front of you. Hinata Shoyo, Karasuno’s rising star middle blocker with a small stature and large drive to succeed. You weren’t necessarily a huge fan of the sport, but being best friends with the team’s manager did lend you a bit more information about its members than you originally would have. Not to mention the few times you’ve visited their practices to see Kiyoko, it was difficult _not_ to at least notice the two noisy freshmen. You drift higher to observe the intense starting setter, Kageyama Tobio, the matching half of the dynamic fast attack duo. He seems uncomfortable, his spine stiff and fingers twitching, like he’s waiting for something to happen. You sigh. “Come on in.”

“You can chill on the living room couch, my roommates are gone for the weekend,” you call as you head up a flight of stairs, presumably to your bedroom. Kageyama hesitates outside the door as Hinata leaps in and flops onto the sofa. Your apartment is small, a couch pressed against a wall and a TV on the other, with a coffee table squeezed between the two, and an even smaller kitchen just across the room. It was a wonder how you could even have roommates in this tiny living space, he thinks as he slides off his shoes at the doorstep.

“I thought you said we were supposed to be here at ten,” Kageyama says, tossing his backpack to the ground and sitting on the side adjacent to his teammate. It was almost noon, seeing as how they were both fiercely competing in a practice match early that morning and lost track of time, causing them to be late for their tutoring session. Not that he minded the delay, since he managed to increase his personal score against Hinata 41 to 39. “Are we early?”

“I thought she said eleven… was it actually one in the afternoon that she said…?” Hinata ponders, causing Kageyama’s eye to twitch. He taps his chin in thought. “I could’ve sworn I had something then…”

“You idiot, you don’t know? We left practice early just to get here!” Leave it up to Hinata to schedule the appointment and forget the time. Maybe they could both head to the gym afterwards to make up for lost time. He still had a lot of pent up energy that needed to be exerted; he wasn’t sure if he could focus on their little study session when his mind was still racing with plays he wanted to try out, new moves he needed to practice.

At that moment, you bound down the stairs again with three large textbooks in hand. You grin as you slam the books onto the coffee table, standing back up with your hands on your hips. “Now, where do you guys want to begin?”

Two hours later and you had managed to make a sizable dent into their volleyball-filled memory banks to shove a few English prepositions and conjugations in there. If they could remember subject-verb agreement by the time they ran out the door to toss some balls, you would consider your job well done. You just hoped it would stick in their heads longer than a week, or else you’d probably be receiving a call a few days before final exams to reteach middle school level vocabulary.

As noon approaches and passes, you let a wide yawn leave your lips, stretching your arms above your head until a satisfying crack is heard. As much as you loved explaining grammar patterns to two college boys, you felt bored out of your mind. A nap was definitely on the agenda afterwards.

With only a few pages left on the review papers, you had half a mind to call it early today and tell them to come back at a different time. But then again, if you just powered through for another hour or so, you could save yourself some free time in the future. You had few other lowerclassmen who desperately needed help in the language department, and you weren’t necessarily looking forward to the long hours staring at small text in a book. At least the college was gracious enough to provide supplementary funds for your time helping the poor and needy. 

Luckily, Hinata saved you from that call as he slaps his face with a resounding smack, eyes wide as he jumps to his feet.

“Shit, I forgot I promised Yachi I’d help her practice her lines at one o’clock today!” He exclaims, frantically gathering up his notebook papers and shoving them unceremoniously into his backpack. You watch him bounce around the room and grab the heels of his shoes from the door before racing back to snag a rice cake off the platter you so graciously prepared for them. “I’m really sorry, I completely forgot!”

“Easy, I get it,” you say, amusement laced throughout your voice. Yachi was somewhat of a friend of yours through extension of Kiyoko, so you got to see the little first year quite a bit. Last you heard from her, she was rehearsing for the Spring play in a few months, a passion she juggled alongside her role as the volleyball team's junior manager. A small smile plays on your lips as you hand him a stapled sheet of paper. “We can pick this up another time, we only have one or two more chapters left to study.”

He accepts the paper with a bow, shouting another “thank you!” before racing back over to the doorway. He pauses, slipping his sneakers on over his long black socks, and turning back with a wave. “I’ll see you at practice later, Kageyama!” And just like that, he’s gone. The door closes slowly, and you hear a loud thump followed by his surprised shout just as it clicks shut.

“Bouncy one, huh?” You say.

Kageyama doesn’t share your jocularity, only offering up a small, “yeah.”

“Well,” you breathe, unprepared to be left all alone with the imposing setter, “we can wrap it up here too if you want. I’m sure a guy like you ‘s got plans, after all.”

“Yeah, something like that,” he says, gathering a few pieces of paper off the table and sliding them into his backpack. You hand him a sheet of paper, your fingers brushing against his briefly before pulling away. He doesn’t notice.

“Hey, Kageyama, can I ask you something?” you ask, bringing his focus back to you. You’re staring at him with a strange glint in your eye, one he can’t decipher, and he gives you a small nod to continue, grabbing a rice cake off the table to shove in his mouth. “Do you have a girlfriend?”

He chokes, the snack getting caught in his throat until he’s hacking like a cat on your aged carpet. You give him a moment to swallow it, offering him your small glass of water. He takes it without looking, his face and neck red as he gulps it down greedily. He slams the cup down and wipes his mouth, avoiding your gaze as he processes your question without his life being threatened.

A girlfriend? Kageyama’s never so much as held hands with another person in a romantic context, much less ever dated. Where this question came from, Kageyama didn’t know; it’s not like an upperclassmen would ask him out anyway, but he still prepared his ritual rejection of him ‘focusing on volleyball.’

“No, I haven’t—”

“A boyfriend then?” You ask in a heartbeat.

“What?! N-no, I’m not—I've never even been on a—” he sputters, stopping himself in his tracks. It's too late, you already caught onto the intention in his broken sentence.

“So you’re in college and have never been on a date? Is that it?” You ask in disbelief, eyes wide as you look him over. It’s almost funny; most athletes you had the displeasure of encountering were total douchebags (not that you would ever think that of Kiyoko’s precious volleyball boys!), and you had your fair share of run-ins with overinflated egos and superiority complexes in college alone. And yet here he was, a college freshman who's never been on a proper date. You idly wonder if he’s ever gotten his dick wet before you can stop the inappropriate train of thought.

“I’m leaving.” He stands, his pale complexion flushed hot and red. You could chalk it up to his choking, but you were certain your questions were a little too intimate for his liking. Still, you had dug this hole too deep for you to quit now, especially on such a sour note.

“Wait, wait, no, I’m sorry, that was really forward and kinda rude of me to ask. Please, sit.” You grab his hands before he can walk away, sitting up on your knees to better plead with him. Batting your eyelashes up at him, you give him a small pout; it's the greatest weapon you have in your arsenal of getting what you want. No man has ever resisted the lure of your perfected puppy-dog eyes, and you weren’t about to let the kid get away. Not until your curiosity has been sated. “I just—I don’t know, I kinda thought you and the ginger were a thing—”

“We’re not.” He grits his teeth, looking between your cute, begging expression and your soft hands encircling his large wrist. It’s a comparison he can’t shake from his mind now that he’s seen it, and he reluctantly sits back down. Part of him is also curious; curious as to your intentions, your motives, what you were planning to do now that you’ve kept him here. You let go of his arm, and his skin stings from your touch. He almost wishes you hadn’t let go of him, missing the soft embrace of your hands. Almost.

“Right sorry,” you say, rubbing the back of your neck with a sheepish grin, similar to that look of embarrassment when you first let him through the door in your casual pajamas. Then, you had felt exposed in your thin white sleep shirt and shorts, but now your exposure was more personal, emotional. Remember your rejection therapy exercises, you think. Try not to make it more awkward than it already is, despite the explicitly awkward topic. “So you really haven’t had a girlfriend?”

“No, I haven’t.” He rests his chin in his hand and his elbow on his knee, combating whether or not to maintain eye contact to better observe you and your reactions, or look away and save him the discomfiture. He settles for somewhere in between, peering at you from his peripherals and directing his gaze somewhere off to the left of your head. “I’m trying to focus on volleyball for now. I don’t need a relationship.”

“Okay, gotcha, I was just wondering, you know,” you say with a shrug, drumming your fingers against your lap anxiously. A brief silence. “You want a beer?”

“...yes.”

You take his compliance eagerly, shooting to your feet to make a quick trip into the kitchen. You pull out two cold beers you're sure your roommate wouldn’t mind missing and pop them both open preemptively before heading back to your seated position on the floor. He takes one of the bottles gladly, pausing for you to take a swig before testing the waters himself. You watch in mild amusement as he fervently gulps down half the drink before setting it down beside him. He’s nineteen and in a public university, yet he sloshes it down like his first sip. You take advantage of his enthusiasm to continue your conversation.

“So like, have you ever actually done anything?” You pry a little further, genuinely aporetic of his personal endeavors. Maybe you could understand never dating someone; most guys you met were horny and noncommittal, happier to sling back a beer and beat up a lady’s beef curtain than to buy her flowers and remember anniversary dates. At his perplexed expression, you elaborate on your question. “I dunno, one-night stand, friends with benefits, that kinda deal,” you say, before correcting yourself, “you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, I’m just curious is all. I’ve never met a guy that hasn’t done a bit of a pile-driving.”

He stares blankly, and you find your lips twitching in sync with your eyes.

“You know, doing the Devil’s dance; giving her the beans, a little bow-chicka-wow-wow!” You raise your beer bottle with a wink and grin, one that fades once you realize just how repulsive those words actually sounded coming from your mouth. You didn’t mind the unsexy language when you were talking with the girls about your personal rendezvous, but saying it to this virtual stranger made you feel a little childish. You shrug your shoulders, hoping to ease any first-hand embarrassment you might have accrued to continue the lighthearted conversation. “Fucking.”

He blinks, shaking his head in resignation.

“No, are you happy?” He huffs. It was bad enough he got flak about his less than active sex life during lockerroom talks with the second-years, he didn’t need an older, experienced woman to join in on their relentless teasing. “I’ve never even…” He trails off, catching himself from spilling his thoughts to his tutor. It was bad enough he admitted to his lack of sexual prowess, he didn’t need to add more logs onto the fire for you to mock him with. It was a wonder he hadn’t left yet, but something about you—weird and open, and now that they were onto that subject, quite pretty—that just made him unconsciously want to stay.

You give a small gasp, shaking your head in disbelief. “What? Don’t tell me you haven’t even had your first kiss yet!” You anticipated a guy of his position and stature to have a fanclub of girls. He was handsome, with a strong build and a dark persona; it was like every teenage girl’s dream boy. Hell, with some work, you could polish him into a proper college kid.

“I was getting around to it,” he practically growls, his cheeks heating uncomfortably. Why did it matter if he had never kissed a girl before? It’s not like it was his biggest priority in highschool anyway; he had much more important matters to focus on, like volleyball. A relationship would only get in the way of that. “What does it matter to you, anyway?”

You hum, tapping your chin. He was cute. A little awkward, but you could definitely work around that if you wanted to. A little guidance and pointers, make a bit of an attitude adjustment, and he could be banging brunettes behind the bleachers after matches if he really wanted to. Girls dig athletes.

“Oh, what can I say, I just have a soft spot for the helpless and in need,” you say with a devilish grin. Yes, this could work. You needed a good rebound after your recent breakup, and this freshman would be the perfect pet project. “And what you need is a proper tutor.”

He blanks. “What?”

“Only if you wanted to,” you hum. It was a generous offer, afterall. Maybe his alluring intensity and hidden intelligence pulled you in, made you wonder what personality he would bring out in private, or maybe it was just his brooding, boyish charm topped with a cherry of idiocy that really made your curiosity peak in the worst possible way. You scoot closer to him along the floor, until your thighs are just barely brushing his, and you feel his sharp breathing through his nose. You tap your lips with a grin. “Would you want to?”

A heavy silence hangs over the room as he contemplates your question. Were you really asking to steal away his first kiss? It wasn’t something he ever paid much attention to, never getting to know a person well enough to take that next step in a relationship, and yet here you were, offering it to him for free. He could hear the endless taunts of his teammates at the discovery that he had waited until his first year of college just to kiss a girl; Tanaka had nearly bursted a lung when he found out that Kageyama was the only first-year on the college team to so never so much as held hands with someone else.

It was never on his mind, but now it most certainly was.

His brain must have been overloaded between consuming too much English vocabulary and grammar and his constantly calculating brain bouncing back to volleyball at every given opportunity, and now none of that seemed to so much as fleetingly enter his vacant mind. He glanced down at your lips, gentle and supple; he had never noticed how soft they looked, how they perfectly melded into a knowing cheshire cat grin, how oh so kissable they were.

He waited another moment more, waiting for you to pull back with a teasing grin and tell him you were just joking. Maybe he wants you to, if only to ease the thick tension in the air, but he knows that’s just what he wants to believe. He couldn’t get the desire to kiss you out of his mind even if he wanted to, now that you’ve planted that little seedling of thought there. With a glance back up to your round, curious eyes, wide in anticipation of his response one way or another, he tosses his better judgement to the side and leans in.

His lips smash onto yours, not in a pleasant or sexy way, but in a forceful press of his closed lips onto yours. It wasn’t much a kiss at all, but you give him credit for his boldness, for standing up to your silent challenge. His long hands squeeze your cheeks on either side of your head, holding you in the place of his bruising kiss and squishing your lips to pucker uncomfortably.

He pulls back a few seconds later to look at your surprised face. His eyebrows scrunch together as his typical grimace takes over his expression, analyzing your reaction. Your face is flushed, eyes wide, mouth agape; you rest your hands on his wrists, small and delicate in comparison to his, now that he’s actually paying attention, and you pull them away from the vice grip on your face.

“Okay, that was… a kiss…” you say, and you try your best to hide the cringe in your voice and body. You hadn’t had such a rotten kiss since your first one in middle school, but you mentally scold yourself for thinking so poorly of something you asked for. This is what you bargained for when you wanted to ‘tutor’ him, to offer him a space to explore his inexperience. “How about we try again? I’ll lead.”

He doesn’t seem to like that response very much, his stern expression marred by the red blush dancing across his cheeks, but he doesn’t protest as you lean forward to press a gentle kiss against his dry, chapped lips. He averts his eyes as you tell him to open his mouth a little bit, but he obliges nonetheless. You place a tender kiss onto his bottom lip, urging him to take note of your motions and rhythm, until his stiffness eventually fades. You slide a hand up his chest to rest on the side of his neck, tilting it slightly to have a better angle to access his mouth. Slow and steady, you work over him until you feel like he understands what lips are at least supposed to do during a kiss.

One last peck, and you pull away. His eyes are screwed shut, his mouth slightly agape and cheeks red, and you mentally burn the downright adorable image to your permanent memory banks to squeal over later. You can’t help but be a little flustered yourself, your own boldness surprising you. He opens his eyes slowly, meeting your delighted gaze with an unreadable expression.

“Osculation,” you say before he has a chance to respond. “That’s your english vocabulary word for the day: the act of kissing!” You give him a cheeky grin, your own cheeks warm, and you try to cover up any awkward silence with a stupid awkward one-liner.

“I…” he starts, mouth wide and you almost feel like he’s going to yell at you, his eyebrows angled down and nose scrunched, but he averts his eyes with a flustered cough into his fist. “I have to go.”

He wobbles to his feet, his knees weak from sitting for too long, and his thighs flex with the strain. Kageyama snatches his backpack off the ground and rushes to the front door to slide on his sneakers, shoving the bottom of his shirt down low enough to cover his crotch. He should have left sooner, yet you compelled him to stay; he played right into the palm of your hand, and he wanted nothing more than to take a cold shower back at his dorm to wash away his shame. He struggles to slide on his left shoe, settling for sitting on the heel as he swings open the door.

You bite your lip as you observe his frantic actions with a sense of… pride. He didn’t seem uncomfortable with the act, more bashful and embarrassed than anything, so you didn’t take his rushing off to heart. You were used to men running off after a little one-on-one session anyway, so you brushed it off without a second thought. Before he steps out, you throw out a question, laidback enough to hide your doubts in yourself and your actions. “Next Tuesday? We can finish up our study session then, your call.”

He pauses, his back to you as he waits on the threshold.

“Yeah… I’d like that,” he mumbles before slamming the door shut behind him. He breathes out a sigh of relief, thankful to not be under your scrutinizing gaze anymore. Next Tuesday, study session, finish up; those words flew in one ear and out the other. He’s not sure he would be ready to see you so soon, after your little interaction. Kageyama grunts as he pushes himself off your apartment door and heads towards the stairwell, praying no one would see him stumble out of your place half-hard and redder than a rose. This was a one-time occurrence, he thinks. He might be able to entertain the thought tonight when he’s alone, but he couldn’t carry these strange thoughts of your hands and lips with him anywhere else. He had better things to prioritize than any fantasy relationship his mind could conjure with an upperclassmen.

You hear his footsteps pad away and sigh. He was a hard nut to crack. But seeing the man you’ve heard stories about (his anger issues, his struggles to form meaningful relationships on the court, his issues with teamwork at times; Kiyoko really was quite talkative when you had her in the right headspace, and even more so passionate about her position as manager) go weak in the knees and bumble and fluster at your simple, innocent touches, you were now even more dedicated to seeing just what kind of nut was hiding underneath that thick shell. 

This could work.


	2. Vocabulary Lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another study session with your favorite freshmen, but something can't quite seem to leave either of your minds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentines Day~! I hope you all enjoy this special present on such a lonely day <3

Tuesday night, Kageyama visits you again.

Hinata’s there too, seeing as how it’s another typical tutoring session to finish any work that was left abandoned during their last visit. He’s energetic as he talks to you about their recent practice, talking his ass off to delay the inevitability of sitting down and studying. He gets a bit pouty when you ask him to look over the notes again to double-check his spelling, but overall he’s quite intense when settled enough to focus on the task at hand. You wonder if he brings that same kind of intensity to volleyball matches, his enthusiasm overcome with passion and a drive to prove himself.

Kageyama’s not half bad either. He’s progressing in his studies quite nicely, and you’re almost hopeful that the two knuckleheads will pass their exams in a few days. He could use a few social cues when the two of you practiced fake English conversations to one another, his tone never changing when speaking and his flow unnatural and stiff, but that was just an asset of his personality. He caught on quite quickly, but tended to blank when questioned directly. That, and he never seemed to stop staring.

It was quite a contrast as to how your last meeting with him went. Kageyama couldn’t even look you in the eyes once you began your inappropriate investigation, much less after you gave him a good one-two in the lip-smacking department. Now, you were the one feeling avoidant under his burning gaze. You purposefully evade his gaze to both piss him off and to not let any indication that there was anything unorthodox going on. If you could act normal for one study session, then so could he.

Kageyama, on the other hand, was having his own internal debate. His hardened stare held no malice or ill-will. He was simply looking at you, _really_ looking at you, as if it were his first time seeing you. Saying you were pretty was an understatement; Kageyama had thought he had seen true beauty a few months ago when he met Kiyoko, but now he understood. He understood why Noya and Tanaka made themselves out to be fools for the woman, why they would chase her heels for a scrap of affection. Even he was not immune to Kiyoko’s subtle charms and feminine aura, yet he never contemplated anything further than her soft voice complimenting his performance after a game or gentle touch when she hands him a water bottle and towel. He never contemplated any kind of amorousness towards anyone.

Until he met you.

You managed to awaken something buried deep within him. In just a matter of minutes, you made him feel a rush of adrenaline he only felt in volleyball matches, his heartbeat rocketing without hardly trying. Your beauty encapsulated him, your lips only further dragging him into your snare; even now, as your eyes dance around his in a knowing manner, he feels something in his gut stir. Tanaka and Nishinoya were fools for chasing after a woman out of their league. And Kageyama would not so easily be played as a fool.

“That’s about it, I think!” You say, stretching your arms high above your head. Your oversized t-shirt rides up with the movement, revealing a hidden patch of plush skin just at your hips and stomach. He averts his eyes as you drop your arms and address the two men again. “Not much else I can help you with for the exam, just remember to keep studying.”

Hinata groans and stretches, his limbs spreading like a starfish onto your wood floors. “Finally! It’s so tiring, I feel like my brain is about to explode.”

“You barely answered any questions correctly,” Kageyama grunts, kicking the older boy in the side with his heel. Hinata only groans louder in response and rolls over onto his stomach. He arches his back until a _pop_ echoes throughout the empty apartment, and he sighs, turning back to his friend.

“At least I tried answering. You just sat there and stared at our tutor like a creep the whole time,” he says nonchalantly, and Kageyama wants to throttle him for his observation. It was bad enough that Hinata was catching onto his newly discovered weakness, but admitting it out loud felt like a punch to the gut.

“I was not staring, I was just thinking!” He refutes, sitting up on his knees to prepare to make good on his mind’s threats. The ginger has the audacity to yawn as Kageyama grabs the collar of his shirt, as if the risk of getting pounded into tomorrow was about as boring as whatever stupid material they just studied.

“Cut it out you two,” you roll your eyes at their childish antics, partially concerned the younger would actually do some real damage for absolutely no reason. You’ve seen the two wrestle over less words, and they sure as hell were not about to get down and dirty on your clean hardwood floors. How Kiyoko could handle being trapped in a testosterone-filled gym with young adult men was beyond you—but then again, you had found yourself in worse situations at certain fraternities in years past. “I would say I pity the fool who has to put up with your daily bickering, but then I’d be insulting my best friend.”

Hinata lights up at your mention of the manager, sitting up and shaking Kageyama’s loose grip off his shirt. “Ooh, speaking of Kiyoko, you should come to one of our games!” He grins, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “English vocabulary and grammar isn’t really my strong suit, so I’d love for you to see me where I’m best.”

He mimics a spike, slamming his hand down upon an imaginary ball with a ‘bow!’ and a ‘whoosh!’ sound effect. It’s cute, you think. College hasn’t completely crushed his soul into dust just yet.

“Ah, big talk! Are you that confident in your skills?” You shake your head, eyeing the two men. Seeing a volleyball game in your limited time off between studying, tutoring, and school wasn’t necessarily on your list of priorities; but, then again, Miki always said you needed to get your ass out of the house once in a while (which you do—just not to places she likes, since she’s usually dragged there with you).

“I’d love to, but I’m pretty busy… maybe if the both of you passed your exams…?” you trail off, letting him catch onto the small hint you slipped with greed, practically lighting up at your implication. He nudges Kageyama beside, beaming.

“Hell yeah! We’ll pass, and then you’ll come see us! You want Miss Tutor to come see us play too, right Kageyama?”

“Hmm?” Kageyama hums, not listening in the slightest. Something about coming to a game? He nods along absentmindedly, muttering, “oh yeah, yeah.” He’s not sure if that’s the right response, as you and Hinata share a knowing look before the latter starts laughing at Kageyama’s apparent obliviousness. 

“We have one in two weeks, a little after midterms; I really hope to see you there,” Hinata says, grinning at you, and how could you say no to such a charming smile.

“I’ll try my best if you do,” you shuffle to your feet, stretching your arms out in front of you again to knock out any remaining knots in your spine. Hinata stands too, sliding his backpack onto his shoulder as you continue, “Promise me you do good, and I promise I’ll reward you—both of you.”

You cast a spare glance at Kageyama, who flushes slightly at the hidden innuendo in your words. His face only drags into a deep scowl; that future reward better be for the setter and the setter only. There was no way in hell he was going to allow his sworn rival to put his grubby little hands one what was his—

Your muffled voice knocks him out of his rapidly spiraling thoughts. No, he couldn’t think like, didn’t need to after today. He promised himself he would get his fill, then leave; never to succumb to the wiles of an older woman so long as he’s pursuing his true love of volleyball.

“Hey, Kageyama, aren’t you coming,” Hinata calls, already halfway out the door and you standing next to him ready to send him off. The boy spares a glance at you, processing his question; he didn’t want to leave you just yet, he had some business he wanted to _discuss_ , but he also wasn’t thrilled at the idea of his roommate knowing about it.

“I’ll catch up later,” he grumbles out. You quirk an eyebrow at him, a knowing smirk threatening to reveal itself at his implication, but you hide it with ease as you rub your neck and turn back to Hinata.

“I wanna run over some things with Kageyama again before he leaves. He’s really struggling in some areas, and I would like you both to pass with flying colors,” you give him a smile, quickly continuing at his suspicious, narrowed eyes, “you’re just doing so well that there’s really nothing you need additional help with!”

At that, he seems to glow, casting a condescending glance at the setter still seated beside the sofa. “Did you hear that, Bakageyama? Miss tutor says I’m doin’ better in English than you! I’ll see you at the dorm later, _loser_!” He seems to get a kick out of his one-up score against the boy, his previous skepticism forgotten as he bounces out the door. You watch him race down the stairs with an unparalleled smugness, and step back inside to face the problem at hand.

The door clicks shut behind you after the middle blocker’s absence, and you are once again left all alone in your apartment with Kageyama.

“Hinata’s right, you’re not very subtle, y’know?” You narrow your eyes at the freshman as you settle back down onto the floor, the man only offering a quirked eyebrow in return. It’s not that you were necessarily a prude by any sense, nor were you shy of sharing your physical activities with others, but you weren’t too keen on having the ginger know about his best friend’s little rendezvous with the tutor after one study session. Still, teasing the setter was a newfound hobby of yours, and you couldn’t help but jab at his lack of self-consciousness. “Maybe lessen up on the evil eyes, just a smidge.” You pinch your fingers for emphasis.

“I’ve been practicing,” he says, completely ignoring your teasing. He scoots closer on his knees until the two of your are just a breath apart, your back flush against the foot of the couch. As much as he hated your little remarks and seductive little lips parted just for him, he can’t deny how much your widening eyes get to him, surprised at his boldness after ignoring his gaze all session.

“English?” You ask hopefully.

“Kissing.”

“Oh have you,” you raise your hand to trace along his jaw, pulling his chin closer to where you can feel the sharp inhalation of his breath, and can see the deep blue flecks shimmering in his dark irises. He grunts, annoyed with how you dance around him, like some game of cat and mouse. It’s frustrating, really, how you can extract such primal desire from him for such little reprieve you give, causing him to crawl into your awaiting embrace as if it's second nature. “And I’m guessing you want to show me?”

“Yes, actually.” He doesn’t allow you much time to prepare yourself before his lips collide with yours, swallowing your surprised squeal like a man starved. You don’t resist his acts of passion, sliding your arms along his shoulders to better pull him into the kiss. His lips are softer this time around, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s used chapstick since the last time you two tangoed (you were certainly grateful; his rough lips would have been nice if he had the experience, but the softness matches his virginal state). He retreats only to push back into you, mouthing a trail along your chin and jaw as you sink to the floor, the man now hovering over you as you cling to him with a shit-eating grin on your face.

“Do you know what position I play in volleyball?” He pulls away to stare into your dazed eyes, breathless and amazed once again by your beauty. It was a sight he could get used to, with your mouth open and face flushed, small hands wound tightly into his t-shirt and begging to drag him back down. What other pretty expressions could he force you to make? What kind of sounds could those sinful lips produce, when you’re not goading his brain into a weak state of embarrassment with your teasing.

You blink up at him, shaking your head as you collect your thoughts. This was _not_ what you hoped he would be thinking about when making out with an upperclassmen, but you just jot down a mental note to teach him some manners about mood-setting for the future. “The setter?”

“Yes. The setter is the control tower on the court. He makes the calls on who the ball goes to, what plays are needed to win the next point—”  
“Ooh, is your version of sweet talking baby boy?”  
He pouts, his eyebrows scrunched together in annoyance. “I like to be in control,” he states simply, hoping you could catch onto his underlying meaning. He didn’t want to outright say you made him feel like he was drowning, how you easily made him putty with your unconventional touches and aberrant words. You were unpredictable, uncontrollable, and he couldn’t seem to get a footing on where you or he stood. Quite frankly, he craved you just as much as he wanted to blot you out of his mind. “Which is why you need to stop that.”

You immediately halt, your hands retracting from his hair. “Stop what?”

“Just… everything,” he sits up, and you follow him to better meet his austere gaze. He squeezes your hips as you slide into his lap, gripping hard enough to leave bruises as he brings you flush against his chest. God, he must have been one self-sabotaging son of a bitch from the way he pulls you closer when his words say otherwise. “I can’t think straight when you do this to me, and I need you to stop before it starts to hinder my progress in volleyball. Which is why this is the last time I’m going to do this with you.”

“Aww, so soon? And here I thought you were just turning into a stunning casanova! You have gotten a bit better at kissing, I’ll admit.” You kept the fact to yourself that _he_ was the one who initiated the make-out spell, that _he_ was the one who tugged you into his lap (where you may or may not feel a half-hard friend poking your thigh), and that _he_ was the one who practiced kissing in his free time just to impress you! Still, you had only intended for this to be a long-term fling, not really committed due to having mutual priorities in life, whether he realized it or not. But, if this was the last time you’d be able to see his cute red face and feel his trembling hands grip your waist, you might as well enjoy it.

“Stop it,” he hisses.

“Hm, I would say make me but I don’t think you’re ready to handle that kinda heat.”

He bites down into your bottom lip, a warning not to push him any further. He might’ve felt bad about hurting you as you wince, if it weren’t for the shameless, breathy giggle you give him, pressing your breasts further against his chest and his back into the couch. Your tongue swipes against the seam of his lips, and he hesitantly lets you slip inside to swirl around and explore him. Despite his big words, this was technically only his second kiss, and for all his reading material on random health websites, he wasn’t sure how to proceed. He would let you take control, for now, just until he gets the hang of it.

“You've been kissing your pillow at night? Maybe making out with your hand?” Much to Kageyama’s dismay, he can’t shut you up for five seconds; even when your tongue is halfway down his throat. It causes a growl to rise in his throat as he feels your smirk against his lips, and he plunges back into you without remorse. Unfortunately, your smart mouth can only be silenced for so long. “Don’t think you’ve dominated the kissing realm just by watching a few pornos and reading a wikihow article. I’ve got years of experience on you.”

“I’m a fast learner,” he brushes you off effortlessly, claiming your lips quickly, savoring your softness flush against him, admiring the drool spilling down your chin from his messy affections. Every time you two pulled back, a string of saliva would glisten between your tongues, distracting him from whatever words those pretty lips mocked him with.

“Novice,” you hum. “lacking experience. Do you remember studying this term?”

“Don’t try to quiz me while we’re like this!” You giggle at his red cheeks and surprised expression, and you wiggle your nose against his just to rub salt in the wound.

“But that’s my job as your tutor,” you pout, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. His stare bores into you, absolutely mesmerized. “I just wanna know if you remember anything from our lesson these past few days. Besides, a little hands-on learning might be good for you.”

“Hey—!” He nearly moans as you roll your hips against his. There’s no way of hiding his erection from you now (not that it was very well-hidden in the first place), your crotch brushing against his prominent bulge with sinful grace. His fingers slide up your oversized t-shirt, pulling at the soft flesh and stroking over your warmth as he chases your wandering lips with his.

“Provocative—do you know the definition?” How you ask any questions when you’re practically grinding against him is cruel, his mind too focused on you, you, you. Primal, wanton, with a desire to claim and to mark and to make his entirely. This was not helping his internal dilemma whatsoever, not when he so desperately wanted to take control of your movements, to pin you down and have you writhe underneath him, and to dominate you in every way possible. “Hmm, it means to provoke a reaction—” a particularly sensual roll of your hips has him hissing, “or to cause arousal”

“You’re being unfair,” he pouts.

“But it’s more fun this way, hmm? Better than flashcards, wouldn’t you say?”

“Asshole.” He presses a needy open-mouthed kiss against yours, mostly missing your mouth as you smirk. His hands were scrambling over your hips, doing anything he could to take control of the situation. As much as he hated your snarky remarks, know-it-all attitude, and how easily you took command when he fell short, he couldn’t deny how it made his chest tighten with want. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“You don’t enjoy it?” You tap your chin in mock thought, trying to distract his gaze from your mischievous hands. “Well, I have one more word for you—” you lean your weight against his chest with your hands, forcing his back to fall flat against the floor. You loom over him with a victorious smile, one he doesn’t take kindly. “Spontaneous: to act suddenly, or unpredictably.”

Kageyama stares up at you, your eyes twinkling with a playful aura, hair falling around and framing your face. He feels pang in his chest as he’s once again reminded of just how _stunning_ , how _pretty_ you are. He wants to drag you down and press his lips to yours once more, to force your mouth to meld into his with a hand on the back of your neck. But something else stirs in the pit of his stomach, something competitive and domineering, and with a growl, he flips you over onto your back.

A sharp gasp leaves you as you flop down onto the hardwood floor. Stunned, you blink as you look up at Kageyama’s uncharacteristic smirk, looking downright evil. He’s situated between your legs, your knees propped up onto his thighs. Briefly, you wonder if you’ve bit off more than you can chew with this kid, not anticipating such bold moves so soon, but you appreciate the switch that’s been flipped. Maybe your mocking words have finally got to him, or maybe something’s just been awakened. Either way, you take this as your own victory.

“How’s that for spontaneity, huh?” He asks, breathless and prideful. You’re so small underneath him, his larger frame easily overwhelming you.

“I’m impressed,” you hum. Languidly, you drag your arms around his neck to secure him above you. “You changed an adjective to its noun form, good boy!”

He grunts as you pull him down for another kiss, his heart fluttering slightly at your praise. One arm balances beside your head as the other snakes around your waist, pulling you flush against him. He sneaks a hand underneath your shirt, feeling the soft skin of your waist and plush muscles of your lower back, and he nearly moans at the feeling of how foreign it feels in comparison to his hardened muscles and calloused fingers. You raise your hips slightly, your clothed crotch brushing against his hardened length, and he lets go of your lips with a pained grunt. Kageyama digs his face into the side of your neck, his embarrassment burning against your skin. He can’t seem to pull away, no matter how much the small voice in the back of his mind yells at him to. All he can think about is how soft and supple you feel against him, how downright sinful it feels to rut against you. You pepper small kisses to the side of his face and neck, anywhere your lips can reach.

The creak of the front door opening causes him to freeze. A swarm of panic overcomes his system as he hugs you to his body, his head twisted to peer at who the new intruder is. If Hinata had returned for whatever reason, he was ready to unleash his pent up wrath on the short ginger for catching him in such a vulnerable position. His broad shoulders block your point of view, hiding you from any wandering gaze.

“Hey Miki!” You call your roommate, waving your hand above the setter’s head. You can’t see her with his bulky body concealing you, but you could recognize the heavy footsteps of her heels clunking against the floor. Shooting a small glance at the man above you and patting his flushed cheeks, you snicker slightly at the dead look on his face. “I was just finishing up a tutoring session with one of my classmates.”

“Is that what you call that?” She hums in response, tossing her stuff to the ground and sliding off her shoes before slipping past the two of you to head to the kitchen. “Is he going to stay for dinner?”

“Ignore her,” you mumble sheepishly. You sit up, forcing him back onto his knees as you rub the back of your neck. Kageyama’s expression is unreadable, but he avoids your gaze in favor of staring at the ground with his eyebrows tilted down, a frown evident on his reddened features. You lick your lips, a sudden wave of unease washing over you, your stomach churning. “We can conclude our study session here.”

He nods absentmindedly, and you help him gather his papers and books into his backpack and lead him to the door. Miki hums from the inside the kitchen, and you both step outside to grant a bit of privacy once more. The late spring air is colder with the darkened sky, and you stroke your exposed arms to create some friction.

“I’m serious about that reward, by the way,” you say, catching the setter off guard. You lick your lips, as you continue, “I’ll give you something really special, if you want. Then you can wash your hands clean of me, Mr. Volleyball-Man.”

His cheeks flush red, either from the cold or from your seductive words following a brisk makeout session, and he grits his teeth as he looks over your tiny, pliant form. He _knows_ you’re more trouble than you’re worth, that getting tangled up in your lust and forming an addiction to you will only end up as a terrible distraction, but he can’t help the words that tumble from his lips.

“I want you to come to my game.”

You smile and, god, he wants to kiss you again. He really just can’t satiate himself after having a simple taste, but he has to. He’s worked too hard to waste it all on a foolish girl.

“I told you I’ll think about you,” you say, dismissing him easily. That doesn’t make him happy in the slightest, glaring at you as you wave your hand. “I’ll try my best, I can promise you that. And if I miss it, well, I’ll be sure to make it up to you.”

You lean up to press a chaste kiss against his cheek, a stark contrast to the raunchy liplock the pair found yourselves in earlier, and his tongue goes dry as you step back inside your apartment, clicking the door shut behind. It makes him want to scream.

Just another boner to fix with his own fist later.

A heavy puff of air leaves your lips as you sigh, nearly collapsing on the other side of the door. You hadn’t expected the turn of events to be as enjoyable as it was, thanks to whatever inspiration Kageyama had learned to kiss from; you half anticipated to be teaching him how to kiss like a proper frat boy, but his sudden initiative and roughness threw you for a complete loop. It was nice though. It meant he cared enough about you (or whatever you did to him and his cock, as most college boys were) to try to learn and appease you. Maybe you’ll take him to third base as that reward. He’d look so cute all whiny and desperate above you—

“New boyfriend?” Miki cuts through your wandering fantasies, chewing on a celery stick idly as she flips through the weekly newspaper. You groan and waltz into the kitchen, dramatically flopping down onto the counter with an exaggerated sigh. “Didn’t expect you to find a rebound so quick, but I guess I shouldn’t underestimate you.”

She pokes the side of your body with the half-eaten celery, and you groan louder. “He’s not my boyfriend, just a… hookup…” You trail off, unsure of what to call him. It’s not like you could outright say you wanted to corrupt that boy and train him to be the perfect sex god before releasing him back out into the wild; that would just make you sound like a scheming villain.

“Hmhm,” Miki hums, not sparing you a glance. “Mail’s here by the way. You got a letter from the scholarship committee or whatever.”

You gasp, head shooting up as you lunge across the counter to sort through the stack of letters Miki had brought in. Thumbing through a few bills, useless junk mail, a jury duty court date that was thankfully not meant for you, you find the envelope addressed from the Board of Student Scholarships and Fundraising.

Karasuno Community College wasn’t an outrageously expensive school, not like some of the others in the prefecture, but it still had its cost. There would be no way in hell you could afford to go to college as a third-year junior living off of money from a school-sponsored tutoring job, so the awarded cash allowed you to pursue a degree freely. Unfortunately, it was renewed by semester as opposed to by year, and with bated breath you tear open the letter to see if you could attend school for just one more semester—

“Oh thank god,” you mumble, holding the letter close to your chest with the positive words confirming the maintenance of your scholarship. You could stay at Karasuno through next March; plenty of time to finish up your third year. You were so, so close.

“Y’know, on the off chance that you weren’t renewed, I would’ve suggested you working at my aunt’s shop,” Miki offers, much to your dismay. “She pays minimum wage, but she’s got a spare bedroom and everything.”

“I can’t stress to you how that’s the last thing I want,” you huff, resting your chin in the palm of your hand. “Working at an antique store until I die would be an absolute waste of my English degree.”

“You already speak English, I don’t see why you need a degree in it,” Miki dips a carrot into a glob of peanut butter and offers it to you, an olive branch apology for suggesting such a thing. “Do you know how many people would pay you to tutor?”

You don’t mention that it’s technically illegal to tutor without going through some system (such as the college) first to yourself, shaking your head with a pitiful groan. As much as you enjoyed tutoring knuckleheads like Kageyama and Hinata, you’d prefer to do that outside of a jail cell.

A retort loses its path from your brain to your mouth as your phone screen lights up, Hinata’s name displayed in big bright letters. There’s a photo attached to his text:

_hs: Studying for midterms! My favorite food is TKG ;)_

Rolling your eyes, a small grin tugs at your lips as you shuffle the carrot into your mouth. You would have to remember to cook up the breakfast food for the first-year as a congratulations for completing his midterms. Clicking on the attached image, you nearly choke as you see the ginger’s selfie in front of his books and paper, but what catches your eyes is in the background, where Kageyama’s dishevelled form had seemingly slammed open the door, just then arriving back to the dorm. You almost feel pity for the poor guy, a sweatshirt tugged down low over his pants as his face is still slightly tinged red. Did he know Hinata was taking a photo to send to you?

That cute little picture is definitely being saved to your camera roll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story might be a little slow to update, but I promise it'll be posted steadily! College is kicking my ass—especially midterms right now (´;ω;｀)

**Author's Note:**

> Listen I know this chapter was very unsexy but I promise there will be lots of porn to make up for the lack thereof in future chapters ♥( ´罒`*)


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